Careless Whispers
by kirana44
Summary: "She doesn't know I'm here. Neither does he. That's fine with me; I want to remain silent and unseen. I want to see how she acts when I'm not here...I want to see just how far she wants to take this." Shadouge/Knuxouge oneshot.


**Authors Note:** A songfic, like most of my stories, on the Seether cover of George Michael's "Careless Whispers". Again unplanned, I just listened to the song and had this image of Knuckles and Rouge dancing in a giant, empty ballroom whilst Shadow watches them from above without them knowing. Just kind of sitting there, seething with jealousy...because that's how my mind has been rolling ever since I penned "These hands" and "Dead letters". :3 So yeah, Shadouge or Knuxouge, depending how you view it. I personally prefer Shadouge, but it really doesn't help the flame wars when official SEGA sources actively state the Knuckles is Rouge's "secret crush" (although it's not really secret if you post it on the internet. Just saying). I originally tried to portray Rouge as a temptress, trying to shamelessly seduce our pure and innocent emerald guardian, but as the narration from our (unusually observant when it comes to people for one as emo as himself) dear friend Shadow goes on, I ended up making her quite insecure, which I didn't intend. So yeah.

Rouge, Shadow, Knuckles and everyone else in the Sonic franchise belongs to SEGA and Sonic Team.

* * *

She doesn't know I'm here. Neither does he. That's fine with me; I want to remain silent and unseen. I want to see how she acts when I'm not here (out of sight, out of mind and all that). I want to see just how far she wants to take this.

He had entered the club on the premise of finding the pieces of his emerald that she'd stolen. Perfectly innocent, very antagonistic, and most certainly not in the mood for her mind games. But whether he wants it or not, Rouge is most defiantly in the mood to play, and since her favourite toy is absent (or so she thinks), she has to make do. She smiles sweetly at him, a poisonous look that could infect the blood and addle the mind, and she decides to trick him.

"I'll hand over the pieces, on one condition," she says, oh so slyly. He asks what exactly she has in mind, and I can tell that he isn't expecting whatever it is she's going to say next.

"Dance with me. I'll give them back if you dance with me."

He blinks a few times (as do I), hopelessly confused. He clearly isn't used to her and her ideas of amusement, not like I am. Before he can run, or object (not that he wants to), she takes his hand in hers and leads him to the empty dance floor. The club has been closed all day; was she somehow expecting this? It matters not. She has her trap set, and he's about to spring it.

She smiles and unashamedly places his hand on her slim waist, stating outright that she wanted to dance the waltz. He is flustered, going more red than usual, spluttering out that this is stupid and she should just give him his emerald back. The least she could do is fight him, why does he have to do this? I almost laugh. His protests mean nothing to her. He is in her sights, and the guardian has no hope of escape. Does he realise this?

He must do, as he doesn't seem to resist when she takes hi other hand in hers. He mutters weakly that he's never danced before. She laughs and whispers to him, "but I can teach you".

Forward, side, together. Forward, side, together. Basic, simple steps that only slightly resemble dancing. His face is still flushed, and she's now eyeing him with soft, warm eyes.

How often have I seen those eyes! So honest, so innocent and unprotected. Eyes that she never intends anyone to see. How can she keep the image of an absolute temptress if anyone saw that expression painted across her made-up face? Yet I have seen that look often (living with her has its perks). Sometimes it'll appear as she daydreams about what her life could be. Sometimes her eyes sparkle suddenly, like stars, as she states how she's going to finally steal the emerald from "that knuckle-headed echidna". And sometimes, without her realising, she'll look at me as if I'm the one thing to protect her from the darkness of the world. I hate that look. It raises my hopes and dashes them at the same time.

Step, spin, turn. She adds more intricate movements, and he imitates her faithfully, his blush subsiding somewhat. There is something akin to determination in his eyes, and he seems engrossed in what he's doing. It makes sense; to fight and to dance are two very similar things. For both, one must be aware of his own body completely, must watch what they do with their feet, their hands...perhaps he has forgotten exactly who he is dancing with? Caught up in the complex new challenge, he has forgotten that his hand is resting on her waist, her hand on his shoulder. But a sudden twist that he wasn't expecting causes him to stumble slightly, leaning on her with a little more weight; his had suddenly applying more pressure to her. His eyes widen, as if he's suddenly realised what he's doing, and with whom. He blushes again (she seems to have this sort of affect on every man she meets), but this time he smiles a little too. He's genuinely enjoying himself. I seethe with a sudden fiery hate.

Her ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a door slamming, thinking it was from this building and that I had come home. She keeps up with the steps, not wanting this to end, but she suddenly seems restless. Her brow furrows, and a look of confusion shines briefly in her eyes (Knuckles never notices a thing; he's too busy watching his feet). Ah, I see. She finally thought of me. The question is there, reverberating through all the nooks and crannies of her mind: Which one to pick? And I can see from her expression that it's a hard choice to make. I smirk, teeth flashing in the darkness. So out of character for her! Normally, she knows what she wants, and when she does, she goes all-out in trying to get it. But she can't choose. I can see that now. She cannot choose, so she simply flirts and teases and hopes one of us will make the first move instead. She wants us to make the choice for her. Either way, there will be tears, and there will be heartbreak. But heartbreak is exactly what I want for what she's doing to me now. The look vanishes, and she seems to make a decision (at least for the moment; she's so changeable when it comes to matters of the heart). She takes his chin in her hands and moves his face to hers, smiling that seductive smile.

I watch with burning eyes, wishing that I could be him (I would be a much better dance partner for her anyway). Or that he'd realise what she was doing and run far away, back to his little island where there is nothing to distract and confuse and torment him with such sweet pains. Whatever happens, I want this to stop. Jealousy is not something I am used to, but the red echidna brings the feeling flooding in. He's staring at her now, unable to look away as she leans in a little bit closer than is comfortable. If he doesn't push her away, then I will kill him now. It'd be easy. He's right in my sights. I can almost see his heart through his chest. A Chaos Spear would shred through it rather nicely.

He suddenly breaks away from her, finally realising what it was she was leading him into. His breath is suddenly quick and almost laboured, and his eyes are wide and shocked. He closes them, half to focus on his thoughts and half so he can't see her look of confusion and rejection. She takes a step towards him, and he raises his hands to stop her. His eyes open again, and he sighs.

"I'm sorry Rouge. It's just...I wasn't expecting that...and..." he says, sounding genuinely sorry. I, on the other hand, am currently over the moon. He laughs to himself, a harsh and bitter sound.

"...I guess I've been alone for so long, I never realised how you...how you **might**...have felt, I guess. You confuse me so much; I have no clue what it is you want. I'm such a blind fool, I never know what **anyone** wants with me until I've already fulfilled my use..." he confesses. So, he's just as confused, guilt-ridden and self-loathing as she is, as I am. Good. That **really** makes everything easier, doesn't it? He turns and looks straight in her eyes, a sudden determination in them.

"What about you? I need to know...do you actually like me, or are you just messing with me? Tell me, Rouge!" he says, his voice nearly breaking a little. He's forcing the choice, and she needs to think fast.

I can see that her first instinct is to comfort him, to tell him that she loves him. But then that question is still there, that thought of me, and she can't force herself to say it. She wants to, but she doesn't. But then, something interesting happens. She loses the melancholy look of longing, and a sudden blistering rage fills her.

"And what about you? You say that I confuse you...what the hell do I know about you, about how **you** feel? As far as I know, you don't care less about me! All I am is a nuisance, to be chased away! Tell me now...do you actually like me, or am I just a hindrance?" she asks, her voice growing weaker and sadder as she goes on. By the time her outburst is done, she looks on the verge of tears. I can see the answer on the tip of his tongue, but he can't spit it out. Actions speak louder than words, and as he pulls her into a gentle hug, I feel my blood boil.

"I know I've said this before in the past, but it bears mentioning again. I'm sorry...if I hurt you."

He holds her as if he could accidentally break her, and I wish more than anything that those were my arms around her now. They stand like that for a moment, and I can tell exactly what she's thinking. She hasn't made her choice tonight. Perhaps tonight she was simply testing the water, seeing how far she could tease him before he snapped. Perhaps tonight was about her expressing to him her mild interest, just to let him know what opportunities he held. Perhaps...perhaps she still doesn't know what the hell she actually wants. And that's fine by me.

I finally stand up from where I was crouching behind the giant double doors. I compose myself, and I swing open the door to reveal myself to them at last. They both swing round to look at me, slightly horrified at being interrupted at such a moment. Both their cheeks turn red, and I'm trying hard not to laugh at their discomfort.

"There you are, Rouge. I was wondering where you were..." I say, the lie passing easily through my lips. She briefly looks to the floor, then back up at me, the facade now back in place.

"Hey, honey. I was wondering when you'd be back. I was simply passing the time with the knuckle-head," she says, gesturing at the dreadlocked guardian. He stands stock still for a moment, before suddenly bursting back to life.

"Hey! You said you'd give me the Master Emerald shards if I stuck around!" he yells in indignation. I raise an eyebrow at him. I know he stopped caring about the Master Emerald long ago. She grins at him.

"Well, you've got me there! Since you were such a good boy, I'll give you one of them," she says, going back on her deal slightly. He looks dumbfounded, as if he actually believed what she told him.

"But you said you'd give me all of them!" he replies. She grins again, a Cheshire cat grin.

"I never specified how many I'd give back to you. Besides, it means you can come back and play again," she says, her eyes sparkling. He grits his teeth, furious with himself for believing her. She quickly flies away, before returning with a large chunk of the gem in hand. I can tell from the size of it that she put all three pieces of it together to make one single fragment. She winks at him, the playful smile still there.

"Just kidding, hun," she says, her voice soft and almost caring. He blushes, says thank you, and leaves.

She finally turns to look at me but, before she can say anything, I cut her off.

"So, what the hell was that all about?"


End file.
